


A Love Ripped Away

by kangelique



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Once Upon a Time Fusion, F/M, Gen, Kings & Queens, Lieutenant Killian Jones/Princess Emma Swan, Pirate Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Princess Emma Swan, Princes & Princesses, Princess Emma Swan, Young Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Young Emma Swan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-05-27 01:47:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15014000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kangelique/pseuds/kangelique
Summary: Princess Emma of Misthaven.Prince Killian of Tramorekeen.Both fell in love without the Dark Curse.But soon learned: There is no escaping a prophecy.





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Princess Emma of Misthaven.
> 
> Prince Killian of Tramorekeen.
> 
> Fell in love without the Dark Curse.
> 
> But soon learned: There is no escaping a prophecy.

Chapter 1: Prologue

_Eight_ _years_ _ago..._

''This will be a day to remember,my son." My father tells me with a warm smile on his face, giving a quick sniff back as I looked over from my reflection on the mirror to meet his glassy eyes with my own, surprised that in his dark brown depths I could see admiration and pride, causing my own eyes to water in tears I didn't let fall. Not if it meant I would stain my white suit I'd just gotten into. For her. Instead, I let him pat me on the back before he pulled me in for a tight embrace as his arms encased around me and mine did the same, for once not hesitant to do as my arms had been all these years before. "Liam would been happy for you," He whispered against my hair and I nod against his shoulder, not having the words to express just how much I knew he would be happy for me, no doubt in my mind that he would have been.

He left shortly after with one last pat and one last smile that I would see again after the ceremony, leaving me to check myself over one more time before the hour stroke and they would come to escort me down to the grand hall where the ceremony would be held.

Everything seemed brighter, lighter, sweeter as I placed both hands on the sill of the window and l leaned out half of my body to take in the whole sight of her world, of where she'd grown up, of where i'd come to meet her, completely unaware that it would one day lead to this and at the same time somewhere in my heart I had known I wouldn't let her get away to anyone else. Not after that first day. Or first kiss. Or first smile. Or first tear. Because now I would be her last everything, and to that powerful realization in place the birds seemed to answer by playing a more lively tune that was a melody to my ears as I chuckled wholeheartedly, eyes settling over the town where everyone was bustling about; the same excitement they were giving away was the same excitement pumping through my veins in a newfound energy again and again and again, filling me up with what was to come in a just a few minutes.

And then it came.

A knock.

"Your highness?," Dex pokes his head in meeting my smile at the same time he opens the door, and I turn away from the window, almost spinning in a not-so-prince-like fashion. 

"Is it time?"

Dex nods, a wide smile of confirmation in my direction as he opens the door fully, and I cross the few steps to get where he awaits for me outside the door with a red velvet cushion held by his hand to the right with the final touch to go on my head as a symbol.

I smile, holding in my exhale as I lift the crown from its place, knowing this will be the last time I wear it; Suddenly feeling a wave of memories wash over me all at once when I close my eyes and settle the cold and warmth of the crown on my head as its fine built silver passes my hair and reaches my scalp underneath, finally letting it rest there with no more move except for the release of my fingers on it with a well practice. Letting both hands drop from where i'd been holding it, I reach into my suit's pocket to take out the two sparkling sun-dipped golden circles--both having their similar emblends of carefully placed diamonds that reflected the light of both sun and moon each time in a little dance.

Placing both rings next to each other in their own space on the cushion, I nod to Dex.

"I wish you all the best happiness with her, Killian." 

The sincerity, the friendship behind those words, it was enough to make my throat close up in both sadness and happiness that I wouldn't see him for the next coming months. Or maybe years. But he was finally moving to big and better things other than my assistant, so I accepted it, nodded, cleared my throat, and gave him the realest, most grateful smile I could ever give to a friend. And he knew it, silently confirming the same in return.

"Well then, take me to my princess."

 

My heart stopped at the sight of her. There were no words and at the same time all the words in the word to describe her beauty but they would never be enough to fit her, to really capture her, to really be worthy of her as she walked down the aisle of freshly cut white roses decorating each side of her---the white roses being my own touch from the single red rose I had presented to her on our first date; she'd never been one for a bouquet, and this i'd observed slowly over the balls i'd attended each year for her birthday. And it had turned out right because her face had lit up at the sight of the single red rose, eyes giving away how much the gesture had meant to her while her mouth rewarded me with a small smile, not the fuller, wider, more carefree one that I would soon get later---leading a path to me. Her dress was a pure white, tail of it stretching so long and wide in its delicate silk that it seemed to go all the way to the doors of the large ballroom a few feet away; The design of the dress, itself, being like elegant,unique flowers covering her body as it started from her neckline and traveled all the way to the sleeves up to her wrist, and then came to a stop at the small of her waist, the center breaking into the form of a heart as the rest of her, starting from her waist to her feet broke out into a poofy skirt following the same eccentric design of flowers so fancy; The vibrant yellow of her wavy blonde hair was cast back from her shoulders into a half up-half down style on her head as the rest of her hair fell freely behind her back, seeming to almost glow with her skin in how soft and radiant it looked underneath the ballroom lights. 

She took the step up to stand in front of me, and the only things my eyes saw were her emeralds;The same ones I would be greeted with every morning for the rest of my years. With just her face, I forgot everyone else standing around us, also captivated by her beauty, because right now she was all I wanted to know. All I wanted to breathe.

The man placed to follow through the ceremony cleared his throat but neither of us flinched our gazes away from the other.

"Ready to recite your vows?"

I nod at him, gently holding her hand as my eyes briefly fall down and then come back up to meet hers again, taking a small inhale in to then clear my throat and let my heart speak for me for once. 

"Emma. When we met, there was just one thing that mattered to me. The luxuries. As a prince, I was born into them. For a long time that's all I cared for, all I thought there was to care for. I was lost. Then you did something no one else ever could. You showed me that a heart full of love was the most precious treasure of all. The grandest luxury. And one that I don't intend to lose," I reach for the ring from its place on the cushion and bring it over to the fourth finger of her right hand, hovering before it. "They say that a captain's heart belongs to his ship, and with this ring," I slip it into her waiting finger as she smiles a broken smile so full of strength, "It now belongs to you."

She adjust herself, taking a step closer to me as she licks her red lips nervously before starting. 

"Killian, I didn't spend all my life on my own. I had my parents. They guided me. They showed me what true love was everyday because they had it. And I saw it, I knew it. But just because you know that you come from true love doesn't mean you believe you will ever find it. I never did. But thanks to you, now I have." 

She slips the ring into my fourth finger on my waiting right hand. No longer waiting. 

The man continues as we join our hands with the new rings on our fingers for the final question. Final step. Final direction.

"Do you Prince Killian of Tramorekeen, take Princess Emma of Misthaven, to be your wife and to love her for all eternity?,"

"I do."

She smiles.

"And do you Princess Emma of Misthaven, take Prince Killian of Tramorekeen, to be your husband and to love him for all eternity?,"

"I do."

I smile.

"Then I declared you officially wedded and your kingdoms united!"

The ballroom bursts into loud applause and cheer; A sound my ears would treasure forever because it wasn't just for me, or just for her, but for the both of us in our happy ending.

"You may kiss her."

Our lips collided in a searing kiss that carried all the promises we had unspokenly made but were there nonetheless; Honesty, respect, commitment, effort, love. And it left us breathless when we broke apart and then dove in for another, coming out flushed and in need of air, laughing at our lost sense in front of the crowd but not being able to care, only knowing that this was us when the doors of the ballroom were suddenly thrown open with the whoosh of an unsourced air. The loud of the crowd ceasing to nothing as their voices were cut off, and she froze under the palm of my hand cradling her cheek, face having been caught in the mist of her still laughing, all the features that always morphed when she openly laughed were stuck in place left for my thumb to glide over her skin, confused.

"Lov-"

"Well I'm sorry to put this grand celebration to a halt, dear prince."

I spin around, still holding her hand, eyes widening at the state of everyone else in the room: Frozen. Unmoving. Unflinching. Unseeing. And in the middle of them all, where the roses on either side led Emma to me, was now a woman taking deliberately slow steps, each step casting haunting echoes to the room's surrounding walls with the pointy heels hidden under the skirt of her crimson red dress that was partially covered in sparkling black stones as adornment, resembling too much like coal; Her hair gathered on top in the way of a poofed up bun, except it wasn't the least bit poofed up or out of place, instead each hair was pinned back from her face to give the bun its form, only strands not pinned were the two larger ones on either side of her face held back by her ears, and the one loose strand of straight dark brown hair bounced purposefully on her back; All of it finally leading to the red-lipped smile, far too practiced to ever come across as real, and the eyes that were set as warm and open but slightly giving away to an evil lurking within. A false invitation.

The woman holds up one finger, stopping in her step, "But it will only be for a moment, I promise."

I sidestep to put myself in front of Emma when she commences her walk towards me, too much at ease for it. A snarl forms at the back of my throat when the realization hits that I have no sword at hand; I eye the one of Emma's father a few steps to the right in his carrying pocket. She follows my line of sight. "Who are you, why have you frozen my guests?"

My voice booms over the ballroom.

She laughs, and I follow her movement the same way she does mine: Calculating, observing.

"Who do YOU think I am?"

"I don't have time for your games, tell me who you are. Unfreeze them, unfreeze my wife. What kind of witch are you?,"

She ignored my question and demands, smile wavering slightly down. "You know, this reminds me too much of Prince Charming and Snow White's wedding. That one too, was tainted by an intruder," she raises an eyebrow. "Can you remember that tale? It was long ago so I wouldn't judge for your lack of memory. You were born a younger year later, after all. Same as the princess you've now married."

My eyes widened at the implication. "The Evil Queen?!"

"Oh! So you do remember," She clapped her hands. " Look at you being a good boy at your history lessons. It's few that really care to know the story now, but I assume you know it...?"

"King James and Queen Snow defeated her; There's a stone statue in the forest marking the exact spot in which she was defeated. She died, they defeated her, she's been dead for years, so...how are you here again?,"

The woman shook her head, eyebrows pinching together in false thought for show. "Oh, I didn't say I was her. OR..." stopping in her step again, she held herself in front of me, breasts squeezed tightly by her dress, and nose mere inches away from mine that it made me recoil back in disgust when she chuckled at my response to her close proximity. "maybe I am her, disguised as a different woman and only a few steps away from ripping out Snow's heart and crushing it at your feet, despite how old of age she is now. Not close enough to the deathbed. Hatred will never come to an end," she pulled back suddenly, stepping around to my side as my hand gripped Emma's harder. "But no. I'm not here for that."

I grit my teeth. "Then why ARE you here?,"

"To heed a warning."

"What warning?"

"She really is quite beautiful," Her voice drips of honey, and I turn to grab her wrist before the last of her fingertips finish caressing Emma's cheek.

"Don't. Touch. Her."

Her eyes are a steel cold as she pulls her wrist free of my hold, and then her frown turns away to sweet smile, tsking me as she continued her walk around Emma; This time reducing her hands to a hover as I trace her way around, like a predator waiting to attack its prey. Or maybe it was the other way around, but nonetheless her touching reduced to none.

"She's not the fairest of them all, but I guess that has always been for Snow White. Your Emma has her own; I can see why you fell for her."

"And I can see why villains always fail to kill the hero: because they talk before providing any action."

Finally turning to me, her sweet smile is gone. "She will not escape her destiny."

"Who are you talking about?"

"Emma, of course."

"What about my wife's destiny?"

"I talk about the secret her parents have kept from her and their kingdom, therefore she's kept it from you even though she isn't aware of it."

"What secret,witch?," My voice all but growled now; Temper having reached its peak.

She knew she had reached the edge of my anger, borderline to cross, because she took a moment longer to deliver her next words slowly, letting them sink with the heavy thud of a rock dropped to the ocean floor. "The one of being the savior. The one of her light magic. The one where she breaks the dark curse, should she choose to. The one where your happy endings--including the one of yours with her--are nothing but that: Endings. Not happy. But still. Separated in your misery."

A gasp escapes her lips when my hands suddenly wrap around her neck, tight, as part of her air flow is cut of by the simple pinch of my fingers into her skin at the base of throat; The best weapon I have in replace of my sword. "Where did you get this idea about 'The Savior'?"

"Rumple...stilt...skin"

"Rumplestiltskin," To her separate syllables my voice repeats in an echo, left in the alarm that the master of all things black and evil could be involved in this. 

She laughs in my momentary distraction, inhaling.

"A savior is a savior. And her fate will not be ignored," She shrugs, complete in confidence. "But none of this will matter to you now." 

My fingers dig deeper into her skin. "Why won't it?,"

I was suddenly left grasping purple air as it engulfed her, and my fingers seeped through it confused before I looked up and my eye was caught to center on the middle point of a hoop decorated in woven beads that held loose feathers attached to the outside of the ring, beginning to flap back and forth almost soothingly in its wildness to an unknown wind that came out of seemingly nowhere. The perfectly crossed threads came alive with a bright glow as the woven beads began an intense spiral of sun into the middle of the hoop where my eye was caught, until it broke into a blast of light and then ceased its glow to nothing at all, leaving my mind in a haze coming in and out of images I couldn't sort out or knew where they came from, if they were mine at all.

The voice of a woman with no face that finally passed a whisper through my head the words that would haunt me later:  _I will return,dear prince. And not just for her._

 

 


	2. Thoughts Of Her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It did quite honestly take me a long time to finish writing this chapter, but it's finally here, so hope you like it!. All the chapters following after this one will be in only Killian's point of view because I can't give away about Emma's fate if I choose to write a chapter in her point of view, but I'm certainly not closing on her point of view (maybe it will come a little further down the story) but for now,it's just Killian. The prologue was in his first point of view but I'll only be using that for flashbacks (also will come,to explain how Emma and Killian fell in love) so now, I think that's all there is to say,so thank you, hope you like it!.

Chapter 2: Thoughts Of Her

"Prepare to drop anchor, men!," Killian's voice rang over the main deck where the majority of his crew shuffled past each other, bumping into each other and hurriedly scurried over with the rope in their hands, carrying various other things in their wake while the ones holding the anchor itself grunted from their spots at the edge where the waves were still coming against the ship as he slid his hand to the port ever so delicately to direct it to the right.

Through his spyglass he could notably see the spot waiting for them a little ways from the town they were set to stay for the night. Or maybe two, depending on his mood. Moving his attention to the left where the dark silhouettes of other smaller ships and the custom medium built were settled against the town's dock, he figured it was a good idea to anchor the ship where he'd decided to, knowing the rareness of some fool breaking into his ship was almost pitiful while other captains didn't have the same type of luck on their side.

Or not luck. But reputation.

Why else had he built it, if not for that?.

Among other things.

"Do we drop it now, Captain?," One of the men--tall,lanky one, usually the one who mopped--asked from where he was helping the other man next to him to hold the anchor over the railing, merely letting it hover before Killian snapped his attention back to them, brow furrowing, and waving a hand at them with a nod of his head in permission instead of direct words out of his mouth because once again, his staring off into the distance had drifted to thougths of her.

A brief smile crossed his face when he felt the ship heave to a halt, ears almost able to hear how the anchor splashed into the water in slow motion and then moved on to sink farther in with its weight, searching for the sand at the bottom until he felt it find its grasp and helped it by righting the ship forward before feeling it come to a full stop in front of him.

A few of the men clapped each other on the back for another well docked round, but he simply slid his hands off the helm to then walk down to the main deck in gracious, silent footsteps; They all turned their attention to him as he came to a stop with one hand at the loop of his belt and one foot slightly sticking out as if he were about to take the step but stopped in the process of it so it hovered instead.

With a nod of his head, he dismissed them without the slightest flinch taking away his seriousness. "Well done with the anchoring. Go on ahead to the tavern, I'll meet you there in a few," Giving them a smirk, he finished. "Enjoy your fun."

They left rather quickly after that, practically running to the town's tavern the second their feet were out of the ship's terrain, hearing their loud laughter and teasing to the younger ones as they dragged them through the night, almost stumbling over each other to get their rum as the coins jingled in their pockets and swords clicked against their belts.

He stood there until the ruckus of them faded away, and he finally turned to put both hands at the railing, shoulders immediately arched, and head bent down to look at the waves coming in to soothingly rock the ship up and down, letting his eyes close with the silence.

If he concentrated enough, he could still hear her. 

If he concentrated enough, he could still feel her back pressed tightly to his chest as they both stood over the railing, his hands over hers as his thumb caressed her skin in a gentle move, chin coming to rest at her shoulder as she leaned back into his touch when he hid his face in the crook of her neck and used his nose to breathe in her scent--always faintly of flowers and a type of fruit--, waiting until she brushed her hair against his face to finally rest his chin on her shoulder again so they could both stare off into the distance.

 _Killian, what am I looking at?_ , Her voice had come confused with the slight hint of annoyance.

He'd smiled,  _The horizon._

_Is it doing something?._

_No, I just thought you'd find it calming._

She'd nodded,  _It is._

Sighing against the succumb of the memory, he dwelled in it a moment longer, knowing that moment sometimes became minutes or hours where he surrendered to whatever memory his mind decided to give him, and he'd get lost in it, swept up in the confirmation that every single part of it had been real and his mind wasn't just playing tricks on him to subdue his longing and loneliness.

Up until now, that longing and loneliness was tamed by the memories he let himself dive into when he was alone. Not once letting another woman taint the beauty of her in his head. Because she was still his.

"I miss you," His voice came in a quiet tremble when he whispered it to the water below.

Unwilling to let the tears gathering in his eyes fall, he decided to join his crew; The moon's light being his guide as he took his time walking to the one tavern in the town; each step in front of him serving as a distraction to what he only thought about when he was alone, sometimes being his greatest friend and other times being his greatest enemy. Either way, he didn't mind as long as it was just him witnessing his reaction.

All heads immediately turned upon his entering. He deliberately took slower steps, gauging in satisfaction all the small hints of fear he could see in the people's faces as he passed by them toward the table where his crew was sitting at, waiting for him to take his seat in the middle as they looked at him awe. It was something he was used to, after all. Although a long time ago he'd known a different type of stare, the one of a different kind of admiration. Not the one his crew gave him, but the ones he'd grown up being sent his way since childhood. That was the different stare. One he was positive there was no getting back.

"Oh, the captain's here!," Smee--one of his pesky, much too talkative, annoying man that served as mostly cleaner and disposer of such, reminding Killian too much of a rat--announced, voice letting on how many shots he'd already had and still going as he chugged another one down and then clapped his partner on the back, randomly breaking out in laughter.

Victor, his second in command, briefly observed him for a second before turning his head to whistle a bar server, waving his hand to bring the girl forward as she came to stand at their table--some of the men eyeing her in the way that even made Killian uncomfortable as he watched her flinch nervously under their hungry gaze, biting her lip--and quietly asked with a voice resounding too youthful still: "Hi, what can I get you?". Victor only nodded his head toward Killian, and Killian responded by slapping some coins onto the table, clicking his tongue up at her as he said:

"Rum, darling."

The men immediately backed away once they thought he was showing some interest, and she only nodded, silently looking down as she scooped up the coins into the pocket of her apron and then turned around to go bring back the cups of rum, shooting him a grateful smile that he only accessed with his eyes once she dropped off his cup, and he shifted his attention back to the game they were playing.

A bar wench came over after a few minutes, effectively catching the man's attention except for Victor and his as he focused on the bitter taste of the rum as he swallowed it past his throat in one gulp, ignoring the flirtatious way the wench seemed to be batting her eyelashes at him as she kept getting closer, touching every man's shoulder in a gentle squeeze, laughter echoing theirs as she followed with a fake interest to whatever they were saying, until she suddenly dropped herself onto his lap ad he immediately set his refilled cup onto the table with a clatter of disgust.

She giggled, and he turned his head to the side so she could stop touching his hair. He kept his hands away from her body, but she merely shifted her weight so she could wrap her arms around his neck, keeping him trapped.

His jaw clenched as he looked her dead in the eye. "Not interested."

She hummed, "Yeah, that's what they all say."

Abruptly standing up, he let her fall to the floor on her bottom, and she gasped at him in surprise, looking offended but not daring to glare at him in her anger.

"Well I'm not them,  _sweetheart_."

She brought herself up with a 'Humph', and he only sidestepped around her to dismissively say, "Have a go at her, Smee."

"Yes, Captain!"

And then he left them behind with a final, "We leave at dawn."

* * *

 

Leftover coins still jingled in his pocket from what he'd planned to spend at his crew's will to keep them happy and full for the night, but now that he'd chosen to walk out, he realized with a guilt what his heart had really wanted to spend the coins on. Perhaps it had been on his mind ever since he'd gotten a hold of the coins sometime a few weeks ago when they'd made their traditional robbery on the road to some wealthy merchants he knew could spare a few golden coins to keep his treasure afloat, but now he knew why hearing the coins rattle as he threw them onto the table had caused a haunting to his ears saying ' _Is this really what you're doing?"_.

He'd woken up a number of times at night while they were at sea after getting those coins, only to go down where they stored their loot to stare at the mount of gold they'd collected, something tugging at his conscious that only now in the complete silence let itself come to light. Or maybe it was already there in the light, and it was HIM that refused to fully think about it, fully actknowledge it, because if he did it would mean another year had gone by where he was still much in the same position as he'd been that first day when he'd watched the purple engulf them.

His body obeyed mindlessly as his feet led the way down a dark alley; Serving as a help to alleviate the annoyance and disdain he'd gotten from the bar woman, feeling as with each step his jaw released its clench some more and his muscles were able to relax from the stiffness he'd felt immediately come when she'd thrown herself onto his lap. Little by little his anger fell away as he walked further and further from the tavern until the only sound that registered was the coins in his pocket as they clicked against each other, increasing the image of her he carried so carefully to not let a single feature of her be left to forgotten, always reliving it no matter how much it sprung tears to his eyes if it meant being able to remember exactly how she looked like, and exactly how she laughed, and exactly how she loved him, and exactly how he loved her.

Coming out of the dark alley by turning a corner, he found himself by what he deemed to be the marketplace if it were daylight hours but instead the cobblestone street was empty of any sellers usually lining up all the way to where he could see little shops begin their own path dedicated just for them but closed promptly now in the quiet black since it was late enough as it was by their arrival at the port, and everyone was already gone to their homes, sleeping the tired away while he only continued forward to the one shop he saw was still open by the fact that it was the only one in the entirety of the rest that still had its light on.

He found it funny how that was the one shop still open, the only one with its light still on, like a beacon. Almost like it knew he would be here tonight, like it knew he would decide to leave the tavern to wander aimlessly to get the purpose he really wanted to spend the coins on. Except it wasn't aimlessly. And maybe a part of him knew exactly what he wanted to do tonight the minute he walked into the tavern to join his crew, only to then walk out not even a full 3 minutes in. It wasn't just because of the bar wench. The coins had been eating away at him ever since he had them in his palm, serving as a good sparkly reminder of what day was coming. The day he wouldn't ignore nor choose not to celebrate even if she wasn't with him anymore. Years had passed and still he made sure to get her a special something for that day, all objects gathering in his captain's quarters, secretly and safely kept in an old chest that was under the window by his bed where he slept. And on the baddest of nights when dreams refused to come, he would slide out of the bed and sit cross-legged under the window, able to see and caress the objects in his hands with the help of the moon's pale light as it came through while the ship swayed him gently underneath. And other times he would be tired and end up waking up to the dawn seeping through the window, hitting his face where he would be splayed out on the floor, eyes closed and hugging whatever object close to his heart.

He'd never been a believer of fate, and any belief he'd had had died over the years as the absence of her had grown stronger, but now, with that one shop still open, its light still on, and him having left the tavern, he full the pull of fate in a way he never had before. As if tonight had been the night chosen to find his object, like it knew it was time and just been awaiting for him to arrive at port to seek out.

He was still unsure on whether or not the shop could serve his purposes--since he didn't know what kind of shop it was--but he went in nonetheless; The bell signaled his entrance and reminded him of a time when he would walk in as Killian: The Prince, and not Killian: The Pirate. It took him to younger days he wasn't sure he missed.

He knew exactly what he missed.

Inside, it was a variety of different sorts. Teacups, clothes, sets of golden plates, shoes fit for small feet, stuffed animals that looked to have been made by hand and neatly own stitching, following an adornment of embroidered pillows that reminded him of a certain white baby blanket with four cursive purple lettering that was tucked behind one of his pillows on the nights when the longing came the most and he only had that for comfort. Sometimes he thought it still smelled of her and other times he thought himself to be a fool to think the scent could carry on without her body to give it every day.

The mind was a powerful thing, that much he'd learned.

His eyes scanned for the spines of books before he realized he was doing it, and then they fell to the jewelry sitting on top of a wooden table a little further in, being given a soft glow by the faint light surrounding above the whole place to everything.

"See anything you like, young man?"

Killian turned around, only slightly startled when the old man appeared hunched behind him, cleaning the rim of his glasses with a red silken cloth as he then put them to sit almost to the tip of his nose, blinking before looking up at Killian with a tired smile as he tried to smile back while readjusting, having been caught off-guard; It wasn't something that easily happened nowadays.

"I wouldn't say the word 'young' fit into my description anymore," Killian's eyes went back to the jewelry, coming to stand in front of the table as he studied the craftsmanship and form and shape in the way the pieces glittered and brought themselves together to be able to go around any delicate neck; A smile briefly came when the person who had taught him to inspect crossed his mind, and he checked on the man out of the corner of his eye, finding him fixing a few of the embroidered pillows upright from where he had them displayed on a medium height shelf he would have used for books instead.

It had only been a one time occasion when she'd dragged him out of the palace on a visit, but apparently one time had been enough to serve as a lifetime because he still hadn't forgotten.

Now he wondered what had happened to him when the curse had taken them. What had become of him? of her best friend?.

The man chuckled. "Ah, well, old age catches up to the best of us. Simply a part of life," Killian turned to face the man again when he heard his voice addressing him; Not even as a pirate had he lost the manners Liam had spent years drilling into to  _be a gentleman, brother._ "But believe me when I say that whatever years you're on have done you well. I was in no way that good looking, even back in my more youthful days," Killian shook his head, beginning to protest, but the man motioned with his hand. "Tell me, how old are you?"

"Close to twenty eight."

He nodded, accepting his answer and pushing his glasses a little further up. "It looks like you've been through quite a few rough spots."

Killian hummed, turning back to the jewelry and picking up a necklace with a careful hand. "Haven't we all?"

"Indeed." The man walked past him to go sit on a short stool where he sighed, sniffed back and moved to rub the sides of his head as he stared at the old wooden floorboards that seemed to almost match his clothes in the worn out colors of between yellow and brown.

Killian glanced at him but didn't actknowledge it, instead chose to ask. "So how come your shop is the only one still open?"

"Well I usually close up late, son," The man yawned, and his brow furrowed at the word 'son' but he kept his back turned. "I guess today was just the day you happened to be upon town to find my shop. Something like fate, don't you think?," the man chuckled, but Killian only swallowed, not joining in.

"Yes. I suppose."

"Are you a foreigner?"

He set the necklace back down. "In many lands, I am."

"Except for...?"

"There is no except." Killian finally turned to face the man, eyeing him carefully, but he still appeared harmless and not in the least giving any recognition as to who he had in front of him, either as a pirate or escaped prince. So he decided to walk around to fade away any suspicion, but the man didn't follow his movements, only continued staring at the floor like it was showing a great image only he could see.

"So you travel a lot?"

"Quite."

"Have you been to...Tramorekeen, perhaps? Or heard of it?"

That stopped him in his step. 

He tried not to react to the words but it was like all the memories of his homeland he thought were buried deeply hadn't been buried at all, and had simply been waiting for the right moment to come out because a pang of longing hit his chest harder than when he first fought to forget, or the day when he himself promise he wouldn't go back even as the tears fell like the ocean he could see dancing before his eyes. His waves. The ones he'd grew up next to. But taking another step, he was able to find some steadiness to remember who he was now and feed the alarms in his head that told him the man could be a threat, able to see the prince hidden behind the out grown beard, shorter hair, pierced ear, added tattoo, darker clothing, and brand new scars. Yet the man remained oblivious, not even seeming to have payed attention to how badly that one question had affected him. Completely preoccupied.

"No. I haven't had the pleasure," His hand now held an embroidered white pillow that had the decoration of a purple flower coaxed into the threads, reminding him too much of her baby blanket. "but why do you ask?"

"My wife loved it there; said she wanted to go live there instead of this kingdom."

It made him sadly blink as he kept his eyes trained on the pillow, thumbs caressing the edges. 

Clearing his throat, he spoke slowly. "And...where is she, if you don't mind me asking?"

The man stood up. "Gone."

"Gone?"

"Yes," The man sighed, pushing the stool aside and going around to rest his hands on the counter as he quietly studied a golden band that managed to shine brightly under the dimmed light. "yes, my beloved is sadly gone. Been gone for a few years. Although I'm not sure if 'gone' or 'taken' is a good word for it, but she's not here either way. You look old enough to have known about the Dark Curse, probably extremely young when it hit Misthaven, but it took everyone in that cursed purple smoke, and she was one of the among."

A single tear slid down his cheek.

"She'd been on a visit, for some relative or close friend or something, and she was due to come back just a few more days," He scoffed lightly, chuckling a little, lost in the memory. "and I was excited. All prepared for when she would return. I would kiss her and hug her the minute I saw her, and tell her how much I had missed her and her cooking. But I never got that. Instead I got the news that the curse had hit and taken everyone. Even my Martha. And that was it. I traveled there, refusing to believe, needing to see it for myself, but she was gone. Disappeared like the princess and her family. Just...gone."

A silence hung in the air.

One. Two. Three. Four tears. All quiet. All falling. All screaming.

Killian cleared his throat, making sure the words he wanted to say next didn't come out wobbled as he heard the man sniff behind him but didn't dare turn to face him. "I'm sorry to hear that. About your Martha."

"You've got that look."

"What?," He spun around.

The man only shrugged to Killian's immediate knit of eyebrows and clench of his jaw, but the sad smile he gave him--barely able to pull a side of his mouth up in the effort--helped him relax and then had him scratching behind his ear while biting his bottom lip, feeling like a child all over again. "The look of her having been ripped away from you." 

 _Because she was ripped away from me. My love. My_ _princess_. _My Emma._

"How can you tell?"

"It's in your eyes."

Killian turned away, worried that if this old man had gotten this much information from him already in just a few minutes he'd been here, had his crew also seen it?. Could they really see the pain he carried in his eyes every day he steered the ship and commanded orders and played ruthless captain when once upon a time he'd been a prince falling ungraciously at the feet of his princess. It brought fear. To think the men of his crew had seen the more vulnerable side of him when he hadn't even noticed his eyes were being his own giveaway and own threat to the role he'd built himself up to be kill after kill, staining his hands in blood to show exactly what would happen if a mutiny ever came to rise against him. But she'd always been his soft spot. And to think that they KNEW , that they'd seen glimpses, even the smallest, had him wanting to go march back down to the tavern and threaten all of them with his sword dangerously close to their neck, promising to leave a well crafted scar if they ever tried to use her against him in any way.

"What was her name?"

He blinked out of his anger when he heard the gentle voice coming at him so fragile in his own loss. "Oh, uh, yes, you are...my-my love was ripped away from me as well. I'll, uh..." quickly grabbing the items from where they sat, he brought them to the counter and then dropped two fists of coins on top to which widened the man's eyes. "be taking this. Keep it all. My travels leave well payment."

The man could only stare down at the small mountain of coins in confusion; It was more than the two items were said to cost, but he neither refused nor accepted, so Killian nodded, easily scooping up the items in one hand, turning around, and then being halfway out the door after bidding a quiet 'Have a nice night' when the man called out.

"Have hope, son."

_You too._

And then he was gone. The sense of understanding this stranger had managed to give him falling away the second he stepped back onto the cobblestone street and breathed in the cool night air that had seemed what he wanted at first but now found himself preferring the cramped smallness of the shop that radiated warmth and a home feeling despite missing the one person who could bring both home and warmth to the old man. He understood without even needing a formal introduction or exchange of names. Maybe it was better this way. For the man not to know his name and for him not to know his, giving into no further talk because those were the only words he'd uttered to someone in years and now it proved to bring some difficulty, acting like a dam that once it burst, the whole thing gave away and he'd be left more broken than he already was, not being able to stop what he refused to talk about with anyone because she was too precious, and it hurt too much to try to put the way she screamed as she was ripped from his arms into words.

_I'm sorry, Emma._

Needing to lean against a tree to clutch the white embroidered pillow with the purple flower to his chest, he tried to stable his breathing, letting whatever number of tears fall before he pulled himself back together to step aboard the ship, needing to feel her near, to have her close, and hold her in his arms where he could protect her and count every single breath she took that served to let him know that she was alive and existing and healthy in the sleep she would help him get to.

It turned out to be a farther walk back than he had anticipated because the distance from the tavern to the marketplace were not so close, and it was only now that he realized it while still clutching the pillow and pack of white paper to his chest. Each step he took seemed to become more heavy and more yawns filled to accompany the crickets chirping in the otherwise quiet forest; The yawns were a good well signal of how tired he was, but he knew dropping onto his bed would not be the same as before, just falling and expecting sleep to come in a few minutes until it was next day. No. It was never that easy anymore; Having stopped being easy years ago. And it specially wouldn't be easier now that he'd had that talk with that man and gotten a glimpse of his story, only reinforcing her on him more than he had already let himself think about, so he welcomed it. He welcomed it, deciding that he would drown in his memories tonight and proving his decision more by taking his time to get to the ship, not worried by the fact that some of his men might show up and see him stumbling into the quarters with the newly bought pillow and paper.

It was only him, and he couldn't be more relieved until he froze.

"Something's amiss..."

Immediately becoming more alert, he felt his body leave the tired, defeated position to a more stiff, tougher stance a his jaw clenched and a hand curled into a fist when he took in his surroundings, perfectly recognizing everything in the dark even as he had to squint, but the moon offered help. And he waited. Standing there, he quenched the pounding in his head and calmed his racing heart that helped regulate his breathing for him to be able to listen to his intruder.

He waited.

And waited.

A minute. 

Then two.

And then came the sound.

A floorboard creaked, and Killian smirked.

His hand went to the clasp of his sword swaying hidden in the inside of his waistcoat, and he carefully bent to settle both the pillow and paper on a clean spot on the floor, keeping frozen a little bit once they left his hand to listen for any sign that he'd been heard, but there was none. So he moved about, knowing exactly which floorboards to avoid and what places not to touch as he silently crept, boots not making a single noise until he was at the door of where he slept.

There was the rustling of paper. Multiple pages.

A pencil fell.

He peeked in and didn't stop to think when he saw the drawings scattered all over the room.

_Big mistake, mate._

A gasp escaped from the intruder when Killian wrapped an arm around his neck, stumbling him back to his chest where he quickly unleashed his sword and then held the blade an inch away from his upper lip as his arm around his neck tightened, making the intruder grunt as he held his hands as far as he could, but Killian kicked him in the back of his knee and then spun him around so he was at the wall. 

The wall slightly shook when Killian pushed him against it and then grabbed a fistful of his hair to hold his head back while putting the blade directly at his throat.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, this isn't what it looks like," The intruder stammered, but he only held the blade closer.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't skin you now!." Killian barked, and he grimaced, panting heavily, and then looking him dead in the eye that it made Killian grit his teeth, blood beginning to trickle and only following more if he dug the blade deeper in.

"Because...I...I know who you are."

He let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. "Oh believe me, that isn't helping your situation."

"Yeah I know, but let me explain, I--"

"Who are you? What's your bloody name?"

"Name's Eugene," The man panted. "but most know me as Flynn. Flynn rider."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yes, Flynn will play a big part in this story and 'Tangled' itself will too, because hands down Flynn and Rapunzel are my FAVORITE disney couple and how their twist will play into what happened to Emma will be fun and I must admit, a little dark and creepy but that will come later...anyways,thank you for reading! Until the next chapter


End file.
